


Magic Shop

by shineestark



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Murder House, American Horror Story: Roanoke
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I finally did it oh my god, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:22:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22043260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shineestark/pseuds/shineestark
Summary: “When you walk into the magic shop, you may ask for anything or try to sell what you don’t want.”Or, in which Billie Dean replaces Audrey’s sadness with comfort.
Relationships: Billie Dean Howard & Audrey Tindall, Billie Dean Howard/Audrey Tindall
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Magic Shop

**Author's Note:**

> This is entirely based on a prompt created by @otpdisaster on Tumblr!

Everyone goes through a particularly rough time at least once in their lives. Every single individual, sooner or later, would have to deal with a vexing misfortune or distressing chain of events. The kind that keeps you up at night and wears you out in the day, grinding down all of your nerves and pestering your sanity, taking bit by bit of you until there’s nothing left.

Maybe it had something to do with their career or their personal lives. Perhaps they’re struggling with some inner despair or, to the most unfortunate ones, life finds a way to afflict each aspect of their existence. But, if their loved ones cared enough, they would understand how adversities could bring someone to misery, and so, stay by their side and help them see through whatever was going on.

That was why, as another loud cuss travels around the house to the kitchen and fills Billie Dean’s ears, she merely sighs and takes one more long drag of her cigarette.

Ever since the recordings of that _fucking_ sequel of ‘My Roanoke Nightmare’ were somehow leaked to the public (it wasn’t often that Billie got as repulsed and terrified as she did when she lamentably saw the images), a deep torment has been plaguing Audrey.

After the police arrived at the townhouse, things just went downhill. Audrey had been one of the first people involved they brought in for a statement, and the poor thing had been frightened at the time.

Billie’s throat closed up, and her eyes burnt with unshed tears when Audrey called her from the police station; each sob that reached her through the phone felt like the air was being squeezed right out of her lungs. ( _"I don’t know what else to do, I’m scared- oh my God, poor Monet! I can’t do this anymore Billie Dean!”_ )

But Audrey couldn’t stop herself from breaking down and wailing between words because she just had been shown the footage of her friends' brutal slaughter, and the agents had only been worried about finding out why Audrey _wasn’t_ there.

The media got ahold of the story much too soon —Billie is almost sure it didn’t take them more than a couple of hours to put it all over the news. People took sides, as they always did, but the worst part came when they got their hands on the images, and it forced Audrey to relive her coworkers’ death whenever she tried to check any of her social media or give interviews.

It has been weeks since then, and Billie has watched Audrey give her all to try and move on with her life. Some days are great; even if Audrey isn’t her usual self even on those, it’s the closest Billie gets to see her being who she was before all of this. 

Those were the days that lead Billie to believe adamantly her Audrey will get better. When Audrey woke up with a smile on her face because there were no nightmares, and she found Billie in their kitchen and hugged her from behind, still warm and pliant from sleep, stealing tender kisses over shared coffee and granola.

And then there were the bad days. When Billie listened to Audrey weep from the bathroom during the night and watched her go through her day in some tired daze from not getting any rest. And it became clear to Billie that sometimes Audrey couldn’t sleep because she couldn’t close her eyes without seeing the image of her coworkers’ massacre behind her closed lids.

Today is, like the entire week has been, one of those bad days.

“Billie,” Audrey’s head pops by the kitchen door, and Billie wants to scream as she meets Audrey’s gaze, wants to take Audrey in her arms and find a way to help her miraculously, wants to get rid of the dark circles under Audrey’s eyes and the pain that radiates off of her. But she can’t. “Have you seen my sweater?”

“No, dear,” Billie puts her cigarette out and has half a mind to wish she didn’t sound as exhausted as she feels, but she doesn’t expect to Audrey to notice. “I don’t think I saw you coming in with it.”

“For Christ’s sake, Billie Dean,” There’s a low hiss to the words as she wanders off, and Billie winces because Audrey looks too irked just because of a sweater. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier? I’ve been looking for the bloody thing for half an hour!”

“Have you checked the car?” Billie goes after her, finding Audrey slipping her shoes back on by the entrance door. “Maybe you left it there.”

“It’s not there,” Audrey huffs, and Billie has to force herself to swallow the slight hurt crawling up her throat when Audrey doesn’t bother to spare her a glance. “I must’ve left it back at the coffee shop.”

“You’re going back there then?” Audrey’s acknowledging hum is probably more a dismissal than anything, but Billie Dean is nothing but stubborn. “Car keys are in my bag.”

“I’m not going to take the car, Billie, it’s just a couple of blocks from here.”

Billie Dean briefly peers through the windows. It was still sunny outside, bright sky, and clear clouds across the horizon, but she remembers how red the sky had looked earlier in the morning. “Why don’t you take an umbrella then, darling? Or a raincoat, at least. There’s a storm coming soon.”

“Oh, Billie Dean, please,” Exasperation drips from Audrey’s tone, and Billie has to hold herself back from flinching. “It’s not going to rain anytime soon, have you looked outside? I’ll have some extra outer layer when I get my sweater back, alright? Don’t worry.”

As her eyes meet Audrey’s when she walks out, slamming the door with more force than she meant to, Billie finally allows her tears to flow freely. And, as she repeats Audrey’s words in her head, she thinks about how much easier it is to tell herself not to worry than actually doing it.

-

Even if she dashed the two long blocks on her way back to get away from the storm as soon as possible, Audrey pauses by the front door. Standing under the heavy rain, trembling hand resting on the knob, she tries to convince herself she’s just shaking from the cold, and not from thinking Billie might rub the fact that she was right all along (it’s pouring outside, and her sweater _wasn't_ at the coffee shop) all over her face.

She wouldn’t know what to do if Billie did. 

Because earlier in the week she had been offered a part as an aunt on some movie (an _aunt_ of all things, not only producers are subtly calling her old, but they also want her to give her an irrelevant role, for Christ’s sake she preferred the times when they wanted her to be a mum!). And just a couple of days ago, her agent called and told her MTV was doing a special on Monet, and they asked if she could give an interview, and Audrey hadn’t even troubled herself with giving him an answer before she hung upon him.

She’s been so resentful and dejected she barely feels like the person she used to be anymore, feels like every bit of herself spilling from the seams ever since she was forced to watch the bloodbath that fell upon her coworkers.

The nightmares have been torturing her every day the past week. Audrey is not even sure if it’s because of the harassment she’s putting up with or if it’s because one of _their_ birthdays is approaching. And whoever it is should’ve been alive to celebrate it —it’s Shelby’s, Audrey knows it is; she knows everything about Shelby Miller with the back of her hand, had been her and lived as her for the entirety of six months. Or, at least, Audrey thought she knew, because the Shelby she knew would’ve never killed herself.

And _God_ , she knows she’s been awful to Billie, and she knows that Billie’s not to blame for what’s been happening, that Billie’s the only constant in her life. Audrey hates herself more than anyone in the world for treating Billie the way she has, hates herself for even thinking about Billie would ever make fun of her like she’s dreading at the moment.

But Audrey barely knows how to live anymore when she’s running out of oxygen, isn’t sure how she’s supposed to function like she's supposed to when her entire life is crumbling to pieces.

So, she opens the door, coming to terms that she can’t prepare herself for the smug smile that might meet her inside, resigning herself that they’re probably going to argue tonight for the first time in years if it happens.

Yet, Audrey is so stunned when she finally crosses over the foyer she forgets she’s dripping all over the tiles.

There stands her Billie Dean right by the stairs; cigarette and stilettos long-forgotten, standing barefoot on the cold tiles, looking as vulnerable as she allows herself to be, even if Audrey’s the one who just came in from the downpour. Audrey has no idea how long Billie Dean must have been standing there, just waiting for her to come back, dry towel in hand, and a well-known piece of cloth Audrey recognize anywhere folded and draped over Billie’s forearm.

“Oh, pumpkin,” Billie’s voice sounds velvety tender in that way that warms Audrey’s chilling bones. The soft padding feet against the tiles stir Audrey awake to the present because Billie’s walking closer and Audrey moves to meet her halfway —like they always do. “You’re soaked.”

It’s the look on Billie’s eyes that gets to her; very much unlike everybody else looks at her, like Audrey was a broken doll, and no one was sure how to fix her. But, even after all bullshit Audrey brought to their lives, Billie Dean still looks at her like she was precious and whole, loving brown eyes melting her insides and fluttering her heart, always devoted to Audrey.

It also doesn’t escape Audrey how Billie’s face is blotchy, reddened, even if she’s trying to keep her collected persona up, and Audrey has never been any closer to kicking herself than now.

Audrey allows herself to be pulled closer, kicking her shoes off in the process so they can be the same height, and she buries herself in Billie Dean. The towel envelops her in a second, and she’s pressed to Billie’s front, and Billie doesn’t seem to have a care in the world about her lush work clothes getting wet.

“God, Audrey, you’re freezing.” Billie moves the sweater to her shoulder, so it doesn’t get caught up between them. Then, gentle hands are rubbing Audrey’s arms up and down, trying to bring up her body temperature, and if Audrey didn’t know any better, she’d say they feel almost frantic as they touch her.

Seconds tick by in silence, Audrey lets herself be held and coddled, feels her body heat up (she didn’t realize how _cold_ she genuinely was until Billie touched her) before speaking up, face still hidden on the curve of Billie’s neck. “Where did you find my sweater?”

“It was in the car.”

Billie’s lips brush Audrey’s forehead and her cheek, gentle kisses fondly caressing porcelain skin. And, if Audrey’s eyes turn blurry with tears because the affection soothes the ache that’s been prickling her every pore for too long, Billie doesn’t comment on it.

-

There was a hot bath waiting for her upstairs, and maybe Audrey had become a little tearful again at the sight of it and the perfume of her favorite oil permeating the air. And maybe, her tears had finally leaked when Billie still held her close even when they dipped in the water —this time, however, Billie had brushed her tears away with the pad of her thumb, whispering loving words to Audrey, chasing away the bitterness brimming in her soul.

Billie leans back on the couch after their bath, fingers finding themselves between the short strands of Audrey’s hair when Audrey nestles over her. Arms embrace Billie’s narrow waist snugly, and it feels _right_.

“Billie,” Audrey’s voice is small but unwavering, and Billie’s attention drifts away from the TV to her, finding Audrey’s eyes boring into her. “I’m sorry for earlier, I was a twat- _have been_ a twat. I’ve been awful to you, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to- never meant to-.”

_I never meant to make you cry._

She doesn’t finish, but she doesn’t have to, because Billie _understands_ , as she always does.

“You were kind of a twat,” Billie acknowledges, but the slight titter in her tone gives herself away. She takes Audrey’s hand from her waist, fingers entwining together and lips skimming over Audrey’s knuckles. “It’s fine, pumpkin. I forgive you.”

“And thank you for finding my sweater, I truly appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, angel,” Billie opens her arms to let Audrey snuggle closer, foreheads pressed together, and Billie feels herself beaming in joy at their proximity, realizes how much she missed it. “I didn’t want anything else troubling you.”

“Thank you,” Audrey repeats, closes her eyes for a second to soak up the serenity the sweater brings to her (she had it on the moment she got out of the bath). “I wouldn’t know how to keep myself sane every day without it.”

“Why is it so special?”

“Billie Dean, don’t tell me you don’t remember it?” The words are barely out when the realization finally hits Billie. “This one was yours. I wore it all the time, so you gave it to me.”

There’s a small smile gracing Audrey’s lips, and _oh_ , the one thing better than Audrey playing coy is when she honestly gets timid, bashful smile and delicate blush adorning her pretty features.

“It reminds me of you, darling, so it’s possibly the one thing that calms me when you’re not around.”

The admission does nothing to ease the rapid pace of Billie’s heart, makes her tremble because she has just been suddenly reminded how much she loves this woman, and Billie silently prays that she’ll be reminded of it every day for the rest of her life.

Audrey giggles against her lips as they kiss, and Billie spent too damn long without hearing it, and now she feels like she might burst. And, when Audrey clutches at her waist and pulls her closer with another breathless laugh, Billie realizes that even though there would be more bad days to come, Audrey would get by.

Billie will do anything to hear Audrey laugh more again, vows wordlessly she’ll chase away all of Audrey’s pain, and bring her the happiness she deserves. And replace all the hurt with the same warmth Audrey has filled her with.

**Author's Note:**

> please come yell at me about Billie and Audrey @shineestark uwu


End file.
